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Chapter Text

Lan Wangji’s phone pings with a new notification. The new employee stops his needlessly detailed retelling of what he did last weekend, looking irritated at the interruption.

“Excuse me, Su-xiansheng,” Lan Wangji says. It is currently break time and this conversation is absurdly tedious, but it is still an oversight on his part to have forgotten to silence his phone during work hours. Even so, he cannot resist looking at his phone screen.

Wei Wuxian uploaded a new video: “I built my sister a giant spool of thread”.

Lan Wangji’s lips quirks into an involuntary smile.

“Who was that?” the employee asks abruptly (Su She is his full name, he thinks). His attempts to peek at Lan Wangji’s phone screen cannot be more blatantly transparent. “Was it your brother? Your uncle? Someone else?”

Lan Wangji briskly tucks his phone back into his pocket. Any modicum of respect that he could have had for Su She withers away in that instant. “I do not see how my private messages concern you,” he says icily, “since we met only five minutes ago, and I am the head of your department.”

Su She’s jaw drops. It would be a comical sight if Lan Wangji were in the mood for jesting. “I – I didn’t mean to offend –”

“You may not have meant to, but you did nonetheless. I believe it is now time for you to return to your assigned tasks instead of engaging me in small talk. Good day.” Lan Wangji turns on his heel and heads for the privacy of his office, leaving Su She rooted to the spot. He has a much anticipated video to watch.

This video starts like all the rest – a short stop-motion sequence of a lotus bud blooming, set to the lilting notes of a flute. Lan Wangji hums along absent-mindedly, the melody already as familiar to him as a childhood lullaby.

The screen fades to black, and then Wei Ying is there. “Hi, everyone!” he says, grinning sunnily. “It’s me, back with another video. Before we begin, I have some exciting news for you!”

He beams, bouncing in place. Unable to stay silent any longer, he shouts, “My sister’s going to be in this video!” Digital confetti showers him, accompanied by the sound of party poppers and children cheering. Lan Wangji cannot help but smile again. “I’m so excited for you to finally meet her! I know I’ve said it a million times already, but that won’t stop me from saying it again: A-jie’s the most beautiful and kind and talented person ever! Seriously. She’s the best. That statement is totally unbiased and 100% true.”

“A-jie’s going to come visit me in like…” Wei Ying pauses. “Six days! I hope I have enough time for this. Anyway, her son’s turning thirteen soon. That’s exciting news on its own – you only turn thirteen once, after all – but my brother-in-law’s family apparently believes that’s big enough of a milestone to warrant A-jie and her family moving into a bigger house.” Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “As some of you may know, I usually avoid talking about my brother-in-law here because I’m not exactly the biggest fan of him – my brother and I call him the peacock, which should give you some idea of what a pompous asshole he is – but he treats A-jie like a princess, so at least he passes in that regard.”

Wei Ying waves his hand dismissively. “Okay, that’s enough about him. To recap: A-jie and my nephew are moving into their new home, and I need to give them a housewarming gift! I say A-jie and my nephew, but let’s be honest – my nephew is twelve, and I’m not buying him a new gaming console or whatever, so A-jie is the yardstick by which I’m going to measure the success of this project.”

“One thing you should know about A-jie is that she’s a clothing designer, and she loves what she does, so I wanted to make her something related to that. I hit upon the perfect idea after some internet trawling – a coffee table that looks like a giant spool of thread! I bet it’s going to be the best gift she gets. I figured out what my brother’s going to get her yesterday, and my idea is definitely better than his.”

Wei Ying gestures to his side, and a sketch of the prototype blinks into existence beside him. It is exactly as he described – a giant spool, with an equally giant needle sticking out of it. “Now, the clock’s ticking. I already got everything I’ll need, so let’s get straight to it!”

The video cuts to an overhead shot of a workbench, with Wei Ying explaining each step in a voiceover. On-screen, he dumps a towering pile of plywood onto its surface, with circles of varying sizes already traced in pencil. In rapid succession, he cuts each piece of plywood into donut-shaped planks, stacks them on top of one another into a spool, and screws and glues them together.

A close-up shot of the top of the spool is next. Wei Ying sketches out two flowers directly onto the wood – a peony and a lotus, their stems entwined. Using a soldering iron, he goes over the sketch until the flowers are seared into the surface. He proceeds to paint layers of varnish over the entire thing, then winds a thin purple rope around it until it resembles a fat spool of thread.

The camera pans over smoothly to a different area of the workshop, revealing Wei Ying as he brandishes a metal rod at an imaginary opponent like one would a sword. Laughing at the cameraperson, he quickly gets back to work. One end of the metal rod is sharpened to a dull point, the other end flattened and a hole punched out to form a needle roughly the length of Wei Ying’s arm. After polishing and coating it with epoxy, he maneuvers the gleaming silver needle in between the rope until it sticks out of the spool in what he deems a satisfactorily aesthetic manner.

The video fades to black again. The next moment, Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli are standing side by side, back in front of his workbench. A sheet of red cloth hides what is evidently the completed coffee table from view.

“Everyone! I have the pleasure of presenting to you –” Wei Ying gives a dramatic flourish. “My sister, also known as the single bestest person to have ever existed!”

Jiang Yanli, who was looking slightly apprehensive to find herself in front of a camera, visibly relaxes at Wei Ying’s enthusiasm. “That’s very high praise, A-Xian, but you flatter me too much! There's a lot of good people out there who are better than me.”

“Ah, dearest sister of mine. How modest, how humble!” Wei Ying throws his arms around her. “Well, I’m the judge for the ‘single bestest person to have ever existed’ award, so whatever I say is the law. Your objection has been overruled.”

Jiang Yanli smiles, shaking her head in response. “Whatever you say, honourable judge. So, are you going to show me what you’ve made?”

Wei Ying grins. “Yes, yes, I’ve kept you in suspense long enough. Also, I’m dying to see your reaction. Without further ado – your housewarming gift!” With a snap of his wrists, he whisks the red cloth away to reveal the giant spool of thread.

The camera zooms in on Jiang Yanli as she takes it in. Her eyes widen. “A-Xian,” she murmurs, running her hand over the flowers etched into the smooth wooden surface. “This is…”

Wei Ying hovers in the background, shifting from foot to foot. “A coffee table. Do you like it?”

Jiang Yanli nods vigorously, gives a laugh that sounds a little like a sob, and flings her arms around him. “Yes, I love it! A-Xian has made me the best gift! It’s going to be the centrepiece of our living room!”

“Yes!” Wei Ying cheers. Celebratory music begins to play. He pumps his fist and says loudly in a stage whisper, “Operation: Upstage Everyone at A-jie’s Housewarming Party is a success!”

“How many times do I need to tell you that not everything has to be a competition?” Despite the scolding words, Jiang Yanli’s tone is unmistakably fond.

Wei Ying blinks, raising his hands in a show of innocence. “Jiejie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Xianxian is three years old!”

Jiang Yanli sighs, obviously used to his antics. “Yes, what an accomplished three-year-old you are, to have made me such a wonderful gift.” She stands on her tip-toes to ruffle Wei Ying’s hair. “Thank you, Xianxian! You’ve made me very happy!”

Wei Ying squirms at the compliment. “You don’t need to thank me! I’m just glad you’re happy.” He smiles softly at her before turning back to the camera. “Since my gift has A-jie’s official seal of approval, that’s a wrap for this video! I’ll see you guys next time!”

The video cuts to the black end-screen, and Lan Wangji removes his earphones. He already misses the sound of Wei Ying’s voice; his office always seems too quiet when his videos end.

Lan Wangji clicks on the like button beneath the video, then scrolls down to the comments section. He types out a message: Congratulations on your sister’s change of residence. It is nice to finally meet her. She is a lovely person, as you have said. Your gift for her is thoughtful and well-crafted, as expected from someone with your talents.

He hits the submit button, then returns reluctantly to his work.

It is almost time for bed when Lan Wangji’s phone pings with another new notification.

Wei Wuxian replied to your comment on the video “I built my sister a giant spool of thread”.

When he taps on the notification banner, Wei Ying’s reply is as thus: How sweet of you to call me talented! I’m not entirely sure I deserve your praise, but thanks!! You’re right about A-jie though – she is lovely! By the way I’ve passed on your congratulations to her, and she told me to thank you (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

If Lan Wangji stares too long at the reply, it is no one’s business but his.

Chapter Text

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian shoves his phone into his brother’s face. “Look! Tell me I’m not hallucinating!”

“What,” Jiang Cheng snaps. He snatches his phone from him. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The subscriber count, what else is on the page?” Wei Wuxian holds back a sigh. Jiang Cheng’s technological incompetence is truly astounding. “Quick, just tell me how many subscribers I have.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but he obeys. “100k.” There is a beat of silence, then he says in an incredulous voice, “Wait, you have a hundred thousand people watching you on the internet?”

His question is drowned out immediately by Wei Wuxian’s loud shriek. Some of their fellow customers at the restaurant shoot him dirty looks, which he ignores. “Yes! I wasn’t hallucinating! I need to tell A-Yuan!” He grabs for his phone, only for Jiang Cheng to hide it behind his back.

Wei Wuxian swipes at him, almost toppling their drinks on the table. “Give it back! I need to text my son! And A-jie! And Jin Ling! They need to know how popular I am!”

Unsurprisingly, that argument is not convincing enough for Jiang Cheng to return his phone. He opts to give him a deadpan stare instead. “Wei Wuxian. You’re telling me that one hundred thousand people watch you build stuff and snub Jin Zixuan?”

Wei Wuxian lets out a long-suffering groan. “First of all, the number of subscribers is not the same thing as the number of views. Second, I only snubbed Jin Zixuan once in my last video. It took a terrible amount of self-restraint, I had to cut a joke about how A-jie could use the giant needle to stab the peacock if he’s being too annoying. Third, I vlog too. Was my last video the only one you watched? I need to know. Full disclosure: this may or may not affect what I get you for your birthday next year.”

Jiang Cheng pointedly ignores his last question. “Whatever. I still don’t understand why people like watching you make stuff.” He tosses the phone back towards Wei Wuxian, who barely catches it with a yelp. “Congrats, I guess. Publicly snub the peacock some more for me.”

“I’ll take your advice under consideration!” Wei Wuxian says brightly, thumbs already flying across the keyboard as he heralds the good news from the proverbial mountaintops. A-Yuan is hanging out with his friends today, but judging by how much time he spends glued to his phone, Wei Wuxian should get a reply soon. He knows A-jie is on a date (with the peacock, his traitorous mind reminds him), so hopefully his text will interrupt it, just for a little while. Jin Ling is notorious for leaving his messages on read if they’re not urgent, but he might get a reply if he’s lucky. “By the way, Jiang Cheng. How do you feel about appearing in one of my videos in the future?”

An ice cube sails through the air and hits him square in the chest. “Fuck off,” Jiang Cheng says, scowling. Wei Wuxian bursts into laughter.

There is a rap of knuckles on wood before Wen Yuan peers around the doorframe into Wei Wuxian’s workshop. “Baba, I’m back.”

Wei Wuxian straightens up in his chair. “A-Yuan! How was school? Did anything interesting happen?”

Wen Yuan tilts his head to one side. “I got assigned this chemistry group project. We had a career talk from some school alumni. Oh, and Zizhen stayed up too late reading a romance novel and fell asleep during math. He almost got detention.”

“Ah, Ouyang Zizhen. I see he hasn’t changed in the slightest.” Wei Wuxian laughs. “How was the career talk? Helpful?”

Wen Yuan lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Not really? They gave really generic advice – join more extracurriculars, research job opportunities in the field you’re interested in, try to find someone in the industry to job-shadow. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Wei Wuxian leans forward, scrutinizing Wen Yuan’s face. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I still have plenty of time until university.” Wen Yuan points to the camera, set up in its usual spot on a tripod. “Are you filming? Do you need help?”

Wei Wuxian holds back a response about how three years is going to pass by in the blink of an eye, instead saying, “Yes and no, but thanks for offering. Do you want to be in the video?”

Predictably, Wen Yuan grimaces. “No thanks. I like being behind the camera more, and I have that project to work on. Remember to cut out the part with me in it!” He disappears down the hallway.

“I will,” Wei Wuxian says, but only he and the camera are there to hear it. He sighs. When did his A-Yuan grow from a clingy little kid to such an independent teenager? Where did all the time go? Wei Wuxian shakes his head to clear it, then turns back to the camera.

“So! One hundred thousand subscribers, and counting. Wow. That’s a lot. And all of you decided that I was worth subscribing to. That’s crazy to think about! That’s more people than I’ll ever know in a lifetime.”

This whole situation still feels incredibly surreal to Wei Wuxian, even though he has had several days to digest the news. “It’s been years since I started this channel in university. My first video was far from perfect. I never expected to get more than five hundred subscribers back then, and that already seemed like a lofty goal! I know some of you have been a fan since that very first video, and many more of you have joined in the years since. So to everyone who's watched my videos and liked what I do, thank you so much! Really! It means a lot to me.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, allowing time for the swell of the copyright-free emotional background music he is going to add in later. “Okay, that’s enough talk about my feelings, I’m bad at that. Surprising, I know, since I usually talk way too much. What I am good at, though… is making stuff!”

Wei Wuxian mentally pats himself on the back for that smooth, unscripted segue. “To celebrate this milestone, I wanted to do a contest – I’m going to give away something I built! A personalized gift, if you will. Unfortunately I don’t have the time to make something for everyone, so only one of you will be able to win. If you’re interested, leave me a comment and tell me what you want me to make – the more details, the better! I’ll go through your suggestions a week after I post this video and pick the one I like the most. Once I’ve decided, I’ll announce the winner on my social media and message them privately to discuss the details. I put more details down in the video description below, so check that out if you have any questions. I look forward to seeing all of your ideas!”

Wei Wuxian gets up to switch off the camera before he heads down the hallway to the kitchen. It is time for one of his favorite activities – cooking and eating dinner with Wen Yuan. If he's made decent progress on that chemistry project of his, maybe he can even persuade A-Yuan into letting him try that video game everyone on the internet is talking about.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian’s first video is a tutorial on how to build a wind chime from bits of polished sea glass. It was filmed in his old dorm room on a camera he borrowed from Nie Huaisang, and edited using software on the ancient university library computers. Objectively, it is the most terrible video he has ever uploaded.

To Wei Wuxian, however, that video (in all its dimly-lit, poorly-edited glory) is a fond reminder of Lan Zhan.

For the first video on his channel, Wei Wuxian had wanted the pieces of sea glass on the wind chime to fade from dark green to frosted white in a color gradient. While it was a brilliant idea, it would require hours of meticulously sifting through countless pieces of sea glass by hand for the perfect shade of green – a labor-intensive task that would probably bore him to tears.

Somehow, Wei Wuxian managed to rope Lan Zhan into helping him (he likes to think it was because his natural charm and persistence had finally won Lan Zhan over). On a slightly overcast November afternoon, they set out on their quest and drove to one of the nearby beaches. If Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, he could still see Lan Zhan squatting on the beach in his well-pressed slacks, solemnly comparing bits of sea glass to the paint swatch cards Wei Wuxian had picked up from the store beforehand.

That first video might be terrible, but the wind chime was exquisite once complete. The cascade of sea glass turned out exactly as he imagined, and its gentle ringing when the wind pushed it into motion was something ethereal (much like Lan Zhan’s beauty and his poise). He ended up giving the wind chime to Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian wonders where the wind chime is now. Is it hanging on a porch in Lan Zhan’s backyard, or is it tucked away in a box somewhere? If it is on display, does Lan Zhan still think of him when the sea glass chimes its song in the breeze?

After all, he and Lan Zhan drifted apart sometime after graduation; it had happened slowly, and then all at once. Wei Wuxian tried to invite him out for dinner several times in the beginning, but Lan Zhan was always busy with one thing or another. Wen Qing and Wen Ning got custody of Wen Yuan shortly after. The two of them had been run ragged, taking care of a confused and upset six-year-old whose whole world had been turned upside down within the span of a fortnight. Wei Wuxian was only too happy to help, but between juggling his new job at Uncle Jiang’s firm, A-Yuan, and his family’s objections, there was simply no time left for himself, his friends, or his hobbies.

Things calmed down several years later, as A-Yuan got older and came out of his shell. Nowadays Madam Yu is the lone voice of objection, and even then all she does is mutter (loudly, to make sure he and Uncle Jiang can hear) about how Wei Wuxian is using his hard-earned money to take care of a child that isn’t even his by blood.

Wei Wuxian never found the right time to reach out to Lan Zhan again. He knows, through Nie Huaisang’s infamously efficient gossip network, that Lan Zhan is still working at his family’s company, and has steadily risen through the ranks until he reached his current high-level position. He must be busy, doing whatever people in his position do. He will almost certainly be too busy to deal with his random university friend contacting him out of the blue, especially after so many years.

Wei Wuxian firmly believes in all the choices he made, but at times like these he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have Lan Zhan back in his life again. He would of course get along with A-Yuan (how he raised a child who turned out so well-behaved, Wei Wuxian will never know), and there is no way A-Yuan wouldn’t like Lan Zhan. Maybe Lan Zhan could come over for dinner every so often, and even join their weekly board game night (tragically, video games were no longer on the table after last week’s disaster of an attempt). If Lan Zhan had time, they could work on his videos together, or Lan Zhan could just sit on that chair in his workshop and give him feedback in that quietly sincere way of his.

Imagining Lan Zhan back in his life always makes him feel a bit strange, a mixture of wistfulness and melancholy. Working on a video – from conceptualizing to actually posting the finished product – tends to provide a good distraction, as does replying to the comments left on his videos.

Comments left by one specific person, Hanguang-jun, is especially good at soothing him when he is in one of those moods. He (assuming that the “jun” in “Hanguang-jun” means it is a he) reminds Wei Wuxian a lot of Lan Zhan. This is probably because they both speak (or type, in Hanguang-jun’s case) like old men – proper capitalization and formal diction, with no run-on sentences or emoticons of any sort.

Beyond the superficiality of language use, though, is the way both of them are so familiar to him. He has come to know Lan Zhan fairly well over the years (Wei Wuxian had often joked that he minored in Lan Zhan, much to his exasperation). They are often on the same wavelength when it comes to stuff that matters, which is why they had always worked so well together in the past. Hanguang-jun, on the other hand, has been commenting on Wei Wuxian’s videos for almost as long as he has known Lan Zhan. The comments he gives are unembellished and succinct, honest in a way few comments are, and he always seems happy to hear Wei Wuxian ramble on about his life.

Whenever he sees Hanguang-jun’s username and icon (a rabbit nibbling on a stalk of hay) in his comments section, Wei Wuxian takes extra time to type out a reply. Hanguang-jun feels like a close friend, even though the only exchanges they have are via comments on his videos.

Lan Wangji is in turmoil. And whenever Lan Wangji is in turmoil, he turns to one of the people who knows him best – his brother.

“Xiongzhang,” he says as soon as the dial tone stops, “I have a problem.”

“Wangji?” Lan Xichen’s concern is plain as day, even over the phone. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Wei Ying uploaded a video.”

There is a huff of air, the only obvious sign of his brother’s amusement. “Oh? And what did Wei Wuxian do in this video for it to be a problem?”

Lan Wangji frowns. There is nothing amusing at all about this situation. “Wei Ying reached a hundred thousand subscribers, so he promised to make a personalized gift for one of his subscribers. He will choose which subscriber wins based on their suggestions of what he should make.”

“I see. You are going to participate, yes?”

Therewithin lies the problem – Lan Wangji does want to participate. If he wins (and he does want to win, he wants to win so badly it’s embarrassing), he would be able to ask Wei Ying to make something for him, and only him. The thought of receiving such a gift makes him unspeakably happy.

But is it greedy of him, to want more from Wei Ying when he already has the wind chime from all those years ago? Wei Ying gave him that wind chime, packed carefully inside a cardboard box, on Christmas Eve in their final year of university. In response to Lan Wangji’s inquisitive stare, Wei Ying had only smiled and said, “It’s something for you to remember me by!”

Lan Wangji hadn’t understood at first, though he greatly appreciated the gift. Why would he need something to remember Wei Ying by? It was not as if one of them were moving away after graduation (he had asked Wei Ying again, just to be sure). Even so, the wind chime was hung up on the wall next to his reading chair, where it has stayed ever since.

The true meaning of what Wei Ying said did not occur to Lan Wangji until several months later, on the day of their graduation. He was looking for Wei Ying, since he had mentioned wanting to take photographs of the two of them together. Lan Wangji was in the middle of his search when he inadvertently overheard a snippet of conversation between some of Wei Ying’s classmates.

“... Wei Wuxian’s girlfriend?” One of them had said. Lan Wangji, in spite of himself, found his footsteps slowing in response to Wei Ying’s name. The other student shrugged, gestured to the corner of the room, and replied, “Don’t you have eyes? Judge for yourself!”

Lan Wangji turned to look as well. Wei Ying and Luo Qingyang were standing side-by-side in the corner, facing a camera. Wei Ying was laughing while Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes, but they each had an arm arched above their heads to meet in the middle. The two of them together made a heart. The camera flashed.

Everything clicked into place in that instant. Wei Ying had always been affectionate with his friends, so it was certainly possible that Luo Qingyang was nothing more than a friend. But his gift of the wind chime, those words of his that had sounded so much like the prelude to a goodbye, the whispers of those students and the pose they were in… They would make perfect sense if Luo Qingyang were Wei Ying’s girlfriend. With Wei Ying’s bright smile and equally bright personality, it is only natural that she (and many others) would fall for him.

If Wei Ying were dating her, it would explain why he had given Lan Wangji a parting gift. Luo Qingyang could have been uncomfortable with how much time Wei Ying spent with Lan Wangji (and they did, in truth, spend an extraordinary amount of time together), and told Wei Ying to stop associating with him.

Or perhaps – Lan Wangji’s heart sank like a stone – Luo Qingyang had suspicions about how deeply he felt for Wei Ying, and had told Wei Ying about those suspicions. If Wei Ying himself had been the one who decided to break things off with him after that…

The thought was unbearable.

To his greatest relief, Wei Ying continued to reach out to him after graduation, so he was probably still ignorant of Lan Wangji’s feelings. If Luo Qingyang disapproved of how Wei Ying kept asking him out for dinner, he didn’t show it. Out of respect for Luo Qingyang, however, Lan Wangji made up excuses to get out of dinner as often as he could without offending Wei Ying.

The invitations for dinner stopped eventually, which Lan Wangji supposed he should have expected. The only things he has left of Wei Ying now are the wind chime, the videos, and his memories.

“Wangji?” Lan Xichen’s voice breaks into his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Lan Wangji forces his mind back to the present. “Yes, I am fine. I am not sure if I should participate in Wei Ying’s contest.”

His brother hums. “Can you tell me why you don’t think you should?”

Lan Wangji tries to condense all his worries into a single sentence. “I already have a gift from Wei Ying.”

“You already have something from Wei Wuxian, so you believe it would be unfair of you to ask for more,” Lan Xichen confirms.

“Mm.”

There is a soft sigh from the other end of the line. “Wangji, I fail to see the problem.”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to protest, but his brother interrupts before he can say a single word. “These are the terms Wei Wuxian laid down for this contest: everyone has the right to suggest something for him to make, and he will pick whatever suggestion he likes the most. He will build something according to that suggestion and give it to the winner. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, a little sullenly.

Lan Xichen continues patiently. “Then if you win – which you might not – it would be because Wei Wuxian liked your suggestion the best, and wanted to bring your idea to life most of all. If you win under such circumstances, it would be because of your merit. You would deserve whatever gift you get.”

Lan Wangji understands his brother’s logic, but he still feels conflicted. “But I already have something from Wei Ying. Perhaps someone would treasure his gift more than I could –”

Lan Xichen lets out a groan. “Wangji, sometimes you think too much. Wei Wuxian didn’t stipulate what the winner could and could not do with their gift. Let’s say the winner throws their gift in the trash.” Lan Wangji makes an offended noise, only for his brother to shush him like he is still a toddler. “This is purely theoretical. The point I’m making is that Wei Wuxian knows he cannot control what happens to his gift after he delivers it to the winner. If you win – which again, you might not – you would definitely treasure what Wei Wuxian made you. Right?”

Lan Wangji nods, briefly forgetting that it is a voice call. “Yes.”

“Good. Then you should participate. If only to increase the probability of the winner taking good care of Wei Wuxian’s gift.”

Lan Wangji thinks about it for a long moment, and says, “Mm. I will participate. Thank you for your advice, Xiongzhang.”

His brother’s laughter is slightly staticky. “You’re very welcome, Wangji. Now go work on your suggestion. You already have something in mind, don’t you?”

Lan Xichen, still laughing, hangs up on him before he can think of a comeback. It is just as well. Lan Wangji does indeed have several ideas jotted down in the notepad by his laptop.

Chapter Text

This may be the most shameless thing Lan Wangji has ever done.

After calling Lan Xichen, he managed to whittle down his ideas for Wei Ying’s contest to just two. His first suggestion is a puzzle box, which would open to reveal a secret compartment upon completion of the puzzle. Constructing one should be a technically difficult task, which Wei Ying would be sure to enjoy.

His second suggestion is a music box, programmed to play a song of his own composition. Lan Wangji already knows what song he wants for this project. If he shares the song with Wei Ying, it would fulfill “the more details, the better” criteria he set. But what if Wei Ying were not a fan of the collaborative aspect of the music box?

Despite all his indecision, there is only one choice he can make, only one choice he wants to make. That same choice is what leads Lan Wangji over to his piano, about to do the most shameless thing he has ever done in his entire life.

He sits down, and props his phone up so only his hands and the piano keys are in view. He presses record.

He doesn’t need a score; the notes are engraved into his muscle memory, his brain, his heart. They are his thoughts and feelings, laid bare in every strike of hammer on steel wire. They are eloquent in a way he cannot be with his words.

The song is over before Lan Wangji realizes. He ends the recording. His heart is pounding in his chest as he sends it off to its intended recipient, many years too late.

Hanguang-jun left a comment on your video “I got 100k subscribers! (how did this happen)”.

Wei Wuxian pounces on the notification like a cat on catnip. The comment that Hanguang-jun leaves him this time is shorter than usual: Congratulations. Your success is well-deserved. For the contest, I suggest a music box. I have composed a song to go with it. A link is attached.

Other commenters have also suggested music boxes, though none went so far as to write their own music. Intrigued, he clicks on the link.

He is whisked away to a private video. Wei Wuxian instinctively leans closer to the screen as it loads, eager to get a glimpse of the mysterious Hanguang-jun. Is he an old man, like how he types? Will he finally be able to put a face to his name? Wait – is Hanguang-jun even a man in the first place?

The video begins. Much of the shot is initially obscured by a too-close hand, which quickly withdraws to reveal a person who must be Hanguang-jun, seated in front of an upright piano. To Wei Wuxian’s great disappointment, all he can see of them is their torso and arms, dressed in what looks to be a periwinkle dress shirt.

Hanguang-jun lifts their hands – big with smooth porcelain-like skin, which means he is likely a man and definitely not old (unless he’s using some incredible anti-aging cream) – and rests them on the keyboard. There is a short pause, then he begins to play.

The song he plays is indescribably beautiful. Hanguang-jun’s fingers move across the ivory and ebony keys with fluid grace, and the notes he creates are heavy with so many emotions – melancholy, longing, tenderness – that Wei Wuxian cannot help but feel like he is intruding on a deeply intimate moment just by listening to the song.

When the video comes to an end, Wei Wuxian is so overwhelmed he can only sit in silence. His eyes have inexplicably teared up. He feels a little shaky, like he’s regaining his footing after a roller coaster ride, but he has a comment to reply to.

Much backtracking and rewording later, Wei Wuxian has his reply written: Hanguang-jun, it’s finally my turn to praise you! Your song is amazing!! There’s more talent in your little finger than there is in my entire being!! Not to preemptively announce results or play favorites but I have to say you’re currently the frontrunner (≧◡≦) ♡

Wei Wuxian posts the message, then returns to Hanguang-jun’s video to bookmark it for later. He needs to shut himself in his room with his good pair of headphones and listen to it as many times as he wants.

Chapter Text

You received a message from Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian: Hi Hanguang-jun! It’s me, Wei Wuxian! Remember when I said you were the frontrunner last week?

Wei Wuxian: Well, turns out no one came up with a better suggestion than yours

Wei Wuxian: So you’re the winner of my contest!!! ＼(＾▽＾)／

Wei Wuxian: Your music box is getting made

Wei Wuxian: I’m really excited

Wei Wuxian: And I’m not just saying that for PR reasons, like I genuinely want to make it

Wei Wuxian: Your song is so good

Wei Wuxian: Anyway. I shouldn’t spam you you’re probably busy

Wei Wuxian: But we should talk properly! About your music box, what you want it to look like, stuff like that

Wei Wuxian: I’ve already done some research on how they’re made so I can give you a rundown of our options

Wei Wuxian: So just let me know when you’re free (￣▽￣) I’ll be waiting!

Lan Wangji switches on his phone after his flight to find it bombarded with messages. All of them are from Wei Ying to his Hanguang-jun account.

He hurriedly finds an area away from the commotion of the airport before scanning through the messages. There are more than what he is used to receiving, all sent earlier that morning. He hopes he has not kept Wei Ying waiting too long.

Hanguang-jun: Hello. Apologies for the late reply. I had my phone switched off during my flight. I am very pleased that you chose my suggestion out of all the others.

Hanguang-jun: Thank you for your enthusiasm and kind words. The song I sent you is something I started working on many years ago, and is very dear to my heart.

Hanguang-jun: I am currently on a business trip, so I will not be free during the next few days. I am available over the weekend at any time.

Wei Wuxian: I’m free this coming Saturday too! 10am works for me

Wei Wuxian: We can video call if you want! I’m curious to see what you look like

Wei Wuxian: Like not in a weird way though

Wei Wuxian: You’ve been following my stuff for so long I just want to know what you look like!

Bubbling panic fills Lan Wangji. It has been so long since he has properly spoken to Wei Ying, and this might be the last chance to have a face-to-face conversation with him. He wants to accept, but Wei Ying would be disappointed to learn that Hanguang-jun is just one of his old university friends instead of some mysterious stranger. Besides, Luo Qingyang surely wouldn’t appreciate him appearing out of the blue after all these years.

If Wei Ying were to ask Hanguang-jun who he was, he would of course tell him the truth. But if Wei Ying didn’t ask, surely it would be alright for him to avoid the topic entirely.

Hanguang-jun: I would prefer not to video call.

Wei Wuxian: Sure! It’s fine if you don’t want to like I get that

Wei Wuxian: We can just continue our conversation here

Lan Wangji is glad that he doesn’t seem to have offended Wei Ying, but he also doesn’t want him to think that he is anything less than excited about the project.

Hanguang-jun: We can exchange phone numbers instead. Texting each other directly would be a more secure way of communication. Our accounts here can be hacked.

Wei Wuxian: Security is a good point I didn’t even consider that

Wei Wuxian: Great thinking Hanguang-jun!

Wei Wuxian: Here’s my number!

The number Wei Ying sends him is different from the one he had in university. Lan Wangji saves it to his list of contacts under “Wei Ying”, before realizing with a growing dread that he is still using the same number from his university days. If Wei Ying still has his phone number, he would immediately know Hanguang-jun and Lan Wangji are the same person.

Thinking quickly, Lan Wangji enters a nearby convenience store. He emerges a few minutes later, the proud owner of a prepaid SIM card, and texts Wei Ying his new number.

Wei Wuxian: I’ll talk to you this weekend! Looking forward to it ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

Lan Wangji smiles. He is looking forward to it too.

Lan Wangji wakes up earlier than he usually does on Saturday. Jittery with nerves, he rushes through his morning skincare routine, eats breakfast, and does his best to meditate before finally giving up.

Left with more time before he and Wei Ying’s scheduled meeting than he knows what to do with, Lan Wangji decides to read a paperback he had picked up from a nearby bookstore on his brother’s recommendation. It is difficult to focus on the plot when his eyes keep darting to the clock every five minutes.

Lan Wangji is still slogging through the first chapter when his new phone (purchased exclusively for the purpose of texting Wei Ying) chimes. He readily abandons the book in favor of his phone.

Wei Ying: Hi! It’s me! Wei Wuxian! ＼(＾▽＾)／ In case you haven’t saved my number yet

Wei Ying: Sorry for texting you when it’s not even 10 but I woke up earlier than expected! Which is something that never happens normally

Wei Ying: So I decided not to waste this rare opportunity

Wei Ying: Besides I figured you’d probably already be awake! You seem like a morning person

Hanguang-jun: Good morning. I have already saved your number. There is no need to apologize. I have been awake since 6 AM.

Wei Ying: ＼(〇_ｏ)／

Wei Ying: You woke up at 6??! How??

Wei Ying: I mean I guess it’s not that weird one of my friends also wakes up freakishly early

Wei Ying: But even he sleeps in late on weekends (after I persuaded him that was what normal people do)

Hanguang-jun: I, like you, woke up earlier than usual today. Waking up at 6 AM on weekends is no longer something I normally do.

Wei Ying: Good! Everyone needs to sleep in once in a while. It’s healthy

Wei Ying: Don’t quote me on that I’m not a doctor

Wei Ying: But speaking of sleeping habits

Wei Ying: Do all morning people feel this productive? Like I woke up at 8 and I feel so accomplished even though all I did was brush my teeth and wash my face

Hanguang-jun: You should also eat breakfast, if you have not done so already. I find that starting the day on a full stomach can often boost productivity.

Wei Ying: [photo attachment]

It is a photograph of a fried egg on toast, drizzled liberally with what looks to be hot sauce. It is a startling shade of red. Wei Ying’s fondness for spice does not appear to have changed with age.

Wei Ying: I am having breakfast! Praise me Hanguang-jun ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

Hanguang-jun: Good job. You have done well. It looks very appetizing.

There is a long pause before Wei Ying starts typing again.

Wei Ying: Ok I know I told you to praise me but I wasn’t expecting you to actually do it

Wei Ying: You’re being too nice to me I don’t know how to cope

Wei Ying: Especially since I didn’t make this

Lan Wangji tries to piece everything together. Did Luo Qingyang make breakfast then? Were the two of them living together now? It has been eight years since university, so wouldn’t it be more strange if they weren’t cohabitating?

Hanguang-jun: Even if you did not make it yourself, you deserve praise for eating breakfast.

Wei Ying: No I don’t that’s such a stupid thing to receive praise for

Wei Ying: I literally did nothing to deserve it!

Wei Ying: How about you praise my son instead

Wei Ying: He’s the one that made breakfast

Wei Ying: If you praise him I can accept it on his behalf, like the proud parent I am

Drawing a breath becomes more difficult. If they have a son old enough to make breakfast, when did Wei Ying and Luo Qingyang get married? Why hadn’t he been invited to the wedding? Were he and Wei Ying not close enough for that?

Hanguang-jun: You have a son?

Wei Ying: Yep! He doesn’t like appearing in my videos which is why I never mentioned him before

Wei Ying: But he’s a literal angel of a child

Wei Ying: Nothing at all like me growing up

Hanguang-jun: Your son is a good cook, and he sounds very filial. You and your spouse must be very proud to have a son like him. You have raised him well.

Wei Ying: Oh

Wei Ying: Thanks! For the praise

Wei Ying: Yes he is a very good cook I’m incredibly proud of everything he does

Wei Ying: It’s very nice to get praised for my parenting skills especially since I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time

Wei Ying: But I don’t have a spouse

Wei Ying: I know it’s a common assumption to have

Wei Ying: But I’m not married

Wei Ying: In fact currently I am single

Wei Ying: But I’m co-parenting! Kind of! So it’s not like I’m a single parent

Wei Ying: I don’t think I could’ve handled raising a child on my own

Wei Ying: Not well at least

So Wei Ying and Luo Qingyang have split up, but at least they are on good enough terms to co-parent. He berates himself. His worries about being excluded from their wedding are trivial in comparison.

Hanguang-jun: I am sorry for my assumption, and for bringing up a sensitive topic. I would understand if you need to take some time for yourself. We can continue our discussion at a later time.

Wei Ying: No no it’s not a big deal

Wei Ying: Don’t worry!

Wei Ying: We can continue

Wei Ying: So about the design of the music box

Wei Ying proceeds to send him some diagrams before walking him through his research. He sounds like his normal self, but Lan Wangji cannot shake off the feeling that he has overstepped his boundaries.

Chapter Text

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng shouts, banging on the door. “Hurry the fuck up! I’m leaving in five minutes, with or without you!”

Heavy footsteps storm away. Wei Wuxian, digging through a shoebox of odds and ends for his spare batteries, lets out a loud wail. “Jiang Cheng, wait for me, you’re being so mean! I’m doing my best, you know!”

He flings open his wardrobe door. Maybe he accidentally left one in his coat pockets? He is so intent on his search he almost misses the gentle knock on his door.

“Baba,” Wen Yuan says, looking almost amused at how frantic Wei Wuxian looks. “Do you need help? Shushu might have a stroke if we don’t leave soon.”

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian cries. “Thank you so much, I’ll treat you to afternoon tea once we get to Lanling. At least one person still cares about me!” He directs the last sentence towards the hallway, where he can hear Jiang Cheng pacing back and forth. He does not expect a response, and he does not get one.

“I’ll never say no to afternoon tea, especially if I don’t have to pay.” Wen Yuan pushes up the sleeves of his sweater. “So. What are we looking for?”

“My spare camera batteries,” Wei Wuxian says. He turns to his desk and rummages through his drawers. “I could’ve sworn I saw them the other day, but I don’t remember where…”

Wen Yuan hums. “I think I saw them yesterday. Didn’t you leave them in the workshop after they finished charging? So you don’t have to go looking for spare batteries for your next video?”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops, and he makes a mad scramble for the door. “A-Yuan, you genius! I love you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Wen Yuan calls back. “I love you too! Is there a cap on how much I can spend on afternoon tea?”

Wei Wuxian shouts protests and threatens to rescind his offer, but he is sure no one can hear him over Jiang Cheng’s yelling and Wen Yuan’s laughter. Against all odds, they manage to leave the house on time.

It is a five hour drive to Lanling. Jiang Cheng waves off his attempts to be a navigator (“Shut up and be quiet, I know how to get to A-jie’s house”), so instead Wei Wuxian makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat.

He flips through the radio channels (before he is forced to cede control of the music to Jiang Cheng) and scrolls through his social media, but none of it holds his attention for more than five minutes. Restless, he twists around in his seat to face Wen Yuan in the back. “What’re you doing?”

“Texting Jin Ling,” Wen Yuan replies, looking up from his phone. “I’m telling him about how you offered to treat me to tea. He sent me a couple options for where we could go.”

Wei Wuxian sighs dramatically. “There’s no way anything Jin Ling suggests will be in the affordable price range. What will my poor wallet do?”

“Don’t worry,” Wen Yuan says. He taps his screen, and Wei Wuxian’s phone buzzes. “I just sent you the restaurant I picked from his suggestions. The food looks really nice, but it’s not terribly expensive.”

Wei Wuxian taps on the link. A-Yuan is right – there are photos of swirls of matcha ice cream topped with whipped cream and adzuki beans, slices of ripe mango on a bed of sticky rice, fluffy pancakes with fresh strawberries and drizzled with maple syrup. “Oh, this does look really good.”

Wen Yuan makes a noise of agreement, then turns back to his phone. Wei Wuxian is passing some time by filming the scenery outside the car when his phone buzzes again, this time with a shipping notification. Smiling, he opens up his chat with Hanguang-jun.

Wei Wuxian: Good news! The music box mechanism I ordered just shipped

Wei Wuxian: I should get it in 2-3 days

Wei Wuxian: How’s the song going?

Much to his delight, he receives a reply almost immediately.

Hanguang-jun✧: That is good news indeed. I am working on the final version of the score and will get it to you as soon as possible.

Wei Wuxian: There’s no rush! I’m busy this weekend so I won’t be able to work on it just yet

Wei Wuxian: So it’s fine if you take your time!

Hanguang-jun✧: I see. Then I will spend some more time fine-tuning.

Hanguang-jun✧: What are you doing this weekend?

Wei Wuxian: I’m going to visit A-jie! My nephew’s turning 13 this Sunday and the peacock’s family is throwing a bigger party for him than usual this year

Wei Wuxian: It’s going to be a lot

Wei Wuxian: Like distant relatives I didn’t even know existed have come crawling out of the woodwork, ready to gossip and judge to their hearts’ content

Wei Wuxian: But at least I’ll get to see A-jie and my nephew! I’ve missed them

Hanguang-jun✧: I understand. Meeting relatives can often be exhausting if you do not know them well.

Hanguang-jun✧: Please pass on my well wishes to your nephew. Turning thirteen is a momentous occasion for someone so young.

Wei Wuxian: I will!

Wei Wuxian: Speaking of birthdays

Wei Wuxian: How old are you

Wei Wuxian: You don’t need to give me an exact answer I’m just being nosy

Hanguang-jun✧: I am 29.

Wei Wuxian: (°ロ°) !

Wei Wuxian: We’re the same age!!

Wei Wuxian: Wow what a coincidence

Wei Wuxian: I have a funny story

Wei Wuxian: Don’t be offended

Wei Wuxian: But I thought you might be an old man at one point

Wei Wuxian: Because of the way you type

Hanguang-jun✧: Do not worry. I am not offended.

Hanguang-jun✧: Your assessment of “old man” is 50% correct, unless you consider 29 to be old.

Wei Wuxian: Well no

Wei Wuxian: You’ve still got more than half your life ahead of you when you’re 30! That’s not old

Wei Wuxian: It’s just crazy to think 30 is right around the corner

Wei Wuxian: Like where did all the time go?

Wei Wuxian: It’s kind of scary

Hanguang-jun✧: Are you alright?

Wei Wuxian: Yeah

Wei Wuxian: It’s nothing serious

Wei Wuxian: Just something that’s been on my mind lately

Hanguang-jun✧: I will listen, if you wish to talk. If it has been troubling you, it is worth listening to.

Oh. Wei Wuxian sucks in a breath. How long has it been since someone offered so seriously to listen to him talk about his worries?

He thinks of Lan Zhan. If Wei Wuxian is going to talk about this with someone now, at least it’s Hanguang-jun. He seems like a good person. The type who would listen, really listen, and not judge him for any of it. A lot like Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian: I do want to talk

Wei Wuxian: If you’re sure you want to listen

Hanguang-jun✧: Wei Ying, I mean what I said. I will listen.

Hanguang-jun✧: I want to.

Wei Wuxian: Oh. Ok

Wei Wuxian takes a moment to gather his thoughts, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Wei Wuxian: So most of this is just stuff every parent worries about

Wei Wuxian: I know it’s cliche but time is flying by so quickly

Wei Wuxian: My son used to be the cutest little kid ever

Wei Wuxian: He would cling to my leg like a koala and refuse to let go

Wei Wuxian: Now he takes the subway on his own and cooks breakfast and worries about what he wants to do in university

Wei Wuxian: And it’s beautiful

Wei Wuxian: To see him grow up and become his own person

Wei Wuxian: It makes me so proud I can’t put it into words

Wei Wuxian: But one day he’ll have to leave and go off to university

Wei Wuxian: He’ll find someone special and settle down to make a home of his own

Wei Wuxian: Our relationship won’t stay the same

Wei Wuxian: And that scares me sometimes

Wei Wuxian eyes his phone, biting his lower lip. How will Hanguang-jun respond? Minutes creep by, syrupy slow, before his phone buzzes again.

Hanguang-jun✧: I am not a parent, so I have no wisdom to give in that regard. I only have my own experience of being parented, and what you have told me of your relationship with your son.

Hanguang-jun✧: You speak very highly of him, and I have no doubt that you love him very much. From what I have heard, he must love you equally in return. The two of you share a precious bond that cannot be easily broken even by the passage of time.

Hanguang-jun✧: Growing up and discovering oneself is indeed a beautiful thing, but it is also a tumultuous and ongoing process. Your son will need your help and advice even when he becomes an independent adult.

Hanguang-jun✧: You are likely correct in saying that your relationship would change, but it does not necessarily have to take a turn for the worse.

Hanguang-jun✧: Trust in the strength of the bond between you and your son. There is no need to worry excessively.

The corners of his eyes are wet. Wen Yuan has dozed off in the backseat, but Jiang Cheng shoots him a look once he is at a red light. “You okay?”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just focus on driving. I don’t want us to end up lost in the middle of nowhere.”

“That was one time,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but he punches Wei Wuxian lightly on the arm. “You should get some sleep. You look tired.”

As if on cue, Wei Wuxian yawns. “I will, but later. I’m still texting someone.” He turns back to his phone.

Wei Wuxian: Thank you

Wei Wuxian: I needed to hear that more than I thought I did

Wei Wuxian: You really helped! I feel a lot better now

Wei Wuxian: Sorry for bothering you with my stuff

Hanguang-jun✧: It is not a bother. I am glad to have helped.

Wei Wuxian: You know, you’re a really good person

Wei Wuxian: I’m really glad you were the one who won the contest

Wei Wuxian: I know I’m the one who picked the winner but you know what I mean

Hanguang-jun✧: I understand. I am also glad that I won.

Wei Wuxian: (≧◡≦) ♡

Wei Wuxian: I’m going to go take a short nap

Wei Wuxian: All these emotions have drained my energy

Wei Wuxian: But I’ll talk to you soon!

Hanguang-jun✧: Mm. Sleep well.

Wei Wuxian stows his camera and phone back into his bag. Yawning again, he slumps down in his seat. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, eyes already drifting close. “I’m taking a nap now. Wake me up when we’re almost there?”

“Yeah, I will. Who were you texting?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. He slips into the blank obliviousness of sleep.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian wakes up to Jiang Cheng roughly shaking him. They are parked in front of A-jie’s new house (though most would probably describe it as a mansion). “Finally, you’re up,” he says, exasperation coloring his voice. “A-Yuan already went inside with A-jie and Jin Ling.”

Wei Wuxian rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Whatever happened to waking me up before we got here?”

“You were sleeping like the dead. You wouldn’t wake up no matter what we did. I was this close to throwing you out of the car, just to see if that would’ve done the trick.”

Wei Wuxian grabs his belongings from the trunk, still yawning. “Well, at least Yu-furen isn’t here. There’s no way she would’ve stayed quiet if I showed up sleeping in the passenger seat while you drove.”

Jiang Cheng grunts, then slams the lid of the trunk shut. “My parents won’t be coming till tomorrow. It’s just us and A-jie’s family tonight.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a low whistle. “That’s a nice surprise. We can hang out with A-jie, just the three of us. How long has it been since we’d done that?”

“Too long,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly. “Now hurry up. A-jie’s got soup waiting for us.”

“Soup!” Wei Wuxian picks up his pace, Jiang Cheng does the same, and it turns into a race to Jiang Yanli’s front door.

“By the way,” Jiang Cheng says around a piece of lotus root in his mouth. At Jiang Yanli’s pointed look, he hastily chews and swallows. “Wei Wuxian. When did you start talking to Lan Wangji again?”

Wei Wuxian’s last gulp of soup goes down the wrong pipe. He doubles over, coughing violently, while Jiang Yanli thumps on his back until he reemerges gasping for air.

“I’m fine,” he croaks. He drinks the water Jiang Yanli offers him. “Why did you bring up Lan Zhan out of nowhere? I almost died!”

Jiang Cheng shoots him one of his deadpan stares. “You were the one who brought him up first, dumbass. In the car. You said that’s who you were texting.”

Wei Wuxian lights up with understanding. “Oh! I must’ve misspoke. I was actually texting Hanguang-jun, remember him? He’s the one who –”

“Won your contest, wrote the most amazing song ever, has you making a music box for him. We know, because you’ve told us. Multiple times.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “But seriously, how could you have mixed up your precious Lan Wangji with this Hanguang-jun? Their names aren’t even the slightest bit alike!”

Wei Wuxian frowns. “Yeah, but… they’re similar in other ways. The way they speak is the same, and they’re both really good people! Plus I get along well with both of them. It’s not that weird, the fact that I misspoke. I was half asleep when you asked, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it was your precious Lan Wangji –”

“While we’re on the topic of Hanguang-jun,” Jiang Yanli breaks in before Jiang Cheng can say anything else, “Haven’t you been wanting to show us the song he submitted for your contest?”

“I did!” Wei Wuxian grins. “It’s absolutely the best song ever, you’re going to love it.”

“Did you ask Hanguang-jun if it would be okay to share it?” Jiang Yanli asks. She scooches her chair over to get a clear view of Wei Wuxian’s screen. Jiang Cheng lingers at the opposite side of the table, evidently more interested in the pork rib than the song.

“Yep! He’s fine with it.” He taps on Hanguang-jun’s video, and presses play.

His song is just as beautiful and moving as the first time he listened to it. When the last notes fade into the silence of the kitchen, Jiang Yanli’s mouth is slightly agape. Jiang Cheng’s pork rib is abandoned in his bowl. Wei Wuxian is extremely proud, seeing the reaction Hanguang-jun’s song elicited from his siblings. “What do you think? It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“A-Xian… Hanguang-jun sent this to you?” Jiang Yanli turns to him, her expression indecipherable.

Wei Wuxian wonders if this is a trick question. “Yes. It was part of his suggestion for what I should make. Why do you ask?”

Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng glance at each other. “Wei Wuxian,” his brother says slowly. “It’s a love song. Hanguang-jun sent you a love song. Which he composed himself. For you.”

“Wait – a love song?” Wei Wuxian blinks in astonishment. “Just because it’s really emotional and touching doesn’t mean it’s a love song.”

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow. Jiang Yanli lets out a small sigh.

“It doesn’t have to be a love song! Sure, he composed it and sent it to me, but it’s just for a contest. It’s not written specifically for me! He told me he started working on it years ago! There’s no way he wrote it for me!”

“Well, that is pretty compelling evidence,” Jiang Yanli says, a little reluctantly. “He’d need to be psychic to write a song that far in advance for your contest. Unless…”

There is a glint in Jiang Yanli’s eyes that does not bode well for Wei Wuxian. He starts cramming pieces of lotus root and pork rib into his mouth, suddenly eager to retire to his guest bedroom.

“A-Xian, what if Hanguang-jun started writing that song after he subscribed to your channel? You said he’s been following you for years, right? Maybe he’s been in love with you all this time. When you announced your contest, he realized it was the perfect chance for him to send you the song he’s been working on for all these years. That way, everything fits!”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “A-jie, isn’t your theory too far-fetched? Isn’t it far more likely that Hanguang-jun wrote that song for his girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever? He’s probably going to give the music box to them as a gift once Wei Wuxian finishes working on it.”

Jiang Yanli visibly deflates. “I guess your theory makes more sense, A-Cheng. I’ve probably been watching too many romcoms.”

Crisis averted, Wei Wuxian deems it safe to participate in the conversation again. “Anyway! I’m planning to take A-Yuan and Jin Ling out for afternoon tea tomorrow, my treat. Is that okay?”

“It should be fine. A-Ling doesn’t have to be here to welcome everyone when they arrive. He can just greet them at the party on Sunday, or when he gets back,” Jiang Yanli says. Her eyes have glazed over, probably at the thought of hosting all the relatives. “Oh, but Zixuan might want to come too. He and Jin Ling usually have bonding days on Saturday.”

“The peacock?” Wei Wuxian makes a face. “Ugh. Jiang Cheng, come with me? We can get away with not talking to him if we’re both there.”

“No. Leave me out of this. Stop making this difficult for A-jie.” Jiang Cheng begins to gather up the used cutlery. “How do you think she feels, seeing her husband and brother refuse to get along?”

Wei Wuxian throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll go with the pea – sorry, Jin Zixuan.” He stands up, takes the stack of dirty dishes from Jiang Yanli, and brings them over to the sink next to Jiang Cheng. “It’s your turn to talk to him next time – hey, you’re smirking!”

Jiang Cheng’s smirk vanishes like a wisp of smoke. “You must be seeing things. Do you need to book a doctor’s appointment?”

“You – you liar!” Wei Wuxian splutters. He can hear Jiang Yanli holding back her laughter behind them. “You tricked me! How could you? And to your own brother!”

“You’ve done the same thing to me countless times,” Jiang Cheng says airly. “Stop being such a hypocrite.”

Wei Wuxian resigns himself to his fate with a groan. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli, breathless, stops Wei Wuxian on his way out the door. “Are Wen Qing and Wen Ning coming to the party?”

“Nope. Wen Qing's still volunteering at that field hospital in Qishan, and Wen Ning wouldn’t come without his sister.” Wei Wuxian takes in Jiang Yanli’s harried appearance. “A-jie, are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay once this weekend is over.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I was going over guest room assignments when I realized I’d forgotten to save rooms for Wen Qing and Wen Ning. I love the two of them, but thank goodness they aren’t coming this time. I’d need to rearrange everything if they were.”

“Right. I’ll tell them that if they start feeling guilty about missing the party,” Wei Wuxian says, trying to coax a smile out of his sister. It kind of works. “Listen, are you sure you don’t want the peacock to stay here? He can hold down the fort with you!”

Jiang Yanli opens her mouth, hopefully to agree with him, but Jiang Cheng appears out of nowhere with a patronizing smirk. “It’ll be fine, I’ll be here to help A-jie. You and the peacock should go and enjoy yourselves.”

Wei Wuxian gives him a half-hearted glare. “Screw you. Fine, we’re leaving.” He jogs towards Jin Zixuan’s excessively ostentatious car, where everyone else is waiting for him.

This might be the most awkward afternoon tea Wei Wuxian has ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Wen Yuan and Jin Ling, at least, are getting on like a house on fire. With how far away Jiang Yanli lives, the two of them don’t get to see each other in person very often, but Wei Wuxian knows they text more than frequently enough to make up for it.

He and Jin Zixuan’s relationship, however, is far frostier. There was a long period of time during which Jin Zixuan was nothing more than the obnoxious asshole whom Jiang Yanli had an unfortunate crush on (and whom Wei Wuxian punched, but neither of them talk about it now). Somewhere along the way, though, Jin Zixuan became Jiang Yanli’s less obnoxious boyfriend, then fiance, then husband.

While Wei Wuxian’s impression of Jin Zixuan has mellowed with time, they are far from being friends. It is not a status which Wei Wuxian is particularly motivated to change, though now it seems he has little choice in the matter.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says. “This place is nice. Have you been here before?”

“No,” Jin Zixuan says. He looks as uncomfortable as Wei Wuxian feels. “I don’t like sweets.”

Wei Wuxian refrains from giving a snarky response, for Jiang Yanli’s sake. “Okay then. Jin Ling, you suggested this place. What do you recommend I order?”

Jin Ling flips through his menu. “I had the black sesame mousse cake last time, that was pretty good. You can try that.”

“Alright, that’s what I’m getting.” Wei Wuxian takes his camera out of his bag. “What about you guys?”

“I’ll have an oolong tea,” Jin Zixuan says. Wei Wuxian is beginning to wonder why he bothered to come along at all if he was going to order nothing but plain tea.

“What about you?” Jin Ling asks, leaning over to see which page Wen Yuan is on.

Wen Yuan hums, considering. “I’m not sure. The matcha shaved ice looks good, but so does the milk tea ice cream.”

Jin Ling perks up. “What if I get the shaved ice, and you get the ice cream? We can share! That way we get to try both.”

“Okay! Good idea, Jin Ling.” Wen Yuan beams at him, and Jin Ling preens himself at the praise.

Wei Wuxian finds this entire interaction absurdly adorable; though Wen Yuan is only two years older, Jin Ling holds him in the highest regard and hangs onto his every word. Looking at them, Wei Wuxian is reminded of that time a bunch of ducklings imprinted on Jiang Cheng and kept following him around everywhere.

He glances around, intending to flag down a waiter, but his eyes inadvertently land on Jin Zixuan – who, to his horror, has the sappiest smile on his face as he looks at Jin Ling and Wen Yuan talk about video games.

Wei Wuxian has two realizations simultaneously. One: Jin Zixuan is smiling because of Jin Ling, his son, because he (like Wei Wuxian himself) is a father. Two: does he look as embarrassing as Jin Zixuan does when he smiles at Wen Yuan? He is not sure which realization is more personally devastating.

The waiter shows up, and Jin Zixuan rattles off all their orders (what happened to the peacock, who never pays attention to anyone other than himself?). Wei Wuxian gets some footage of the restaurant decor, still trying to process his thoughts.

Jin Zixuan clears his throat. Wei Wuxian turns to look at him. “Um. Are you making a video for your channel?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian says warily. Jin Zixuan initiating a conversation with him is unprecedented. “I’m filming a vlog. It’s been a while since I posted my last video, so I figured I might as well film what I’m doing this weekend.”

“Oh.” Jin Zixuan fiddles with the corner of the tablecloth. “That sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, it is.”

They fall quiet, staring in opposite directions. Wen Yuan and Jin Ling do an excellent job of not noticing the tension between the two of them. Their food arrives an agonizing five minutes later, giving everyone a welcome distraction. Wei Wuxian busies himself with getting good shots of the desserts.

When he can no longer bear the awkwardness, Wei Wuxian speaks. “Did A-jie tell you about my videos?”

Jin Zixuan nods stiffly. “She showed me the video she appeared in. With that coffee table you made her.” He takes a sip from his teacup. “It’s very nice. We have it in the living room.”

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says. He saw the giant spool of thread in Jiang Yanli’s house last night. It was indeed the centrepiece of the room, like she had promised, and was home to several copies of her favorite fashion magazines. “I’m glad she likes it.”

He is eating a forkful of cake (Jin Ling was right, it is very good) when Jin Zixuan suddenly says, “You called me a pompous asshole in that video.”

Wei Wuxian almost chokes (what is it with him and choking these days?). “Oh. Um. I guess I did.”

“I’m not bringing this up because I want you to apologize,” Jin Zixuan says, looking pained. Wei Wuxian has never seen him like this before. “I know I was a… pompous asshole back then. I didn’t appreciate Yanli the way I should’ve. You were right to have punched me. If I could go back in time, I would’ve punched myself.”

It appears the punching incident is now an appropriate conversation topic. “You did deserve it, but I still shouldn’t have punched you,” Wei Wuxian says. “It did nothing. All that happened was I got suspended, and also grounded for like six months.”

“But you did do something,” Jin Zixuan insists. “You got me to reflect on my behaviour. It made me see Yanli in a new light. I thought if you were willing to go to such lengths for her, she must be a better person than I gave her credit for. I like to think that I became a better person because of it.”

“Because I punched you in the face?” Wei Wuxian asks incredulously. That seems a little too much.

“Okay, so the punch may have been more of a catalyst than the cause,” Jin Zixuan says, grimacing. “But still. Um. I don’t think I tried very hard to show you and your brother how I’d changed, after that.”

Wei Wuxian starts to feel a little bad, thinking of how Jiang Cheng and he always made fun of Jin Zixuan. “That’s not entirely your fault. We didn’t exactly make it easy for you to reach out.”

“It’s still at least partly my fault. When I saw your video, I thought to myself: ‘Enough is enough. I have to at least try to fix things.’ So I decided I had to talk to you.” Jin Zixuan looks at him. “Um. So have I? Managed to fix things?”

What is this – a truce? An offer of friendship? Regardless of which one it is, Wei Wuxian would probably accept both. He holds out his hand. “Yeah, you have. Shake on it?”

Jin Zixuan hesitates for the briefest moment (if he refuses, Wei Wuxian is ready to call off whatever this is, right then and there). Then he stretches out his own hand, and they shake on it.

“By the way, Jin Zixuan,” Wei Wuxian says. “Sorry for calling you a pompous asshole. And all the other stuff we said about you.”

Jin Zixuan cracks a smile. “It’s okay. Sorry for being such a pompous asshole.”

Chapter Text

“So yeah, I guess Jin Zixuan’s a much better person now than we gave him credit for.” Wei Wuxian digs out his earrings from the depths of his suitcase and threads them through his earlobes. “Isn’t it crazy how wrong we were about him? Like, what other assumptions have we made about people that were actually completely wrong?”

Wei Wuxian checks himself out in the mirror, snaps a quick selfie, then turns back to Jiang Cheng. “Hey, were you even listening to me?”

Jiang Cheng, leaning against the wall, narrows his eyes. “Yes. I was just wondering if you mistook someone else for Jin Zixuan. You know, like how you mistook Hanguang-jun for Lan Wangji.”

“When are you going to stop bringing it up? That was two days ago, and I was half-asleep! I only did it once!”

“One time too many,” Jiang Cheng says under his breath, but he moves on. “It just doesn’t sound like something the peacock would say. You said he thanked you for punching him in the face?”

“Okay, he didn’t exactly thank me, but he did say it made him a better person.” Wei Wuxian chortles. “I can tell people I reformed Jin Zixuan with the power of my fists! What’s Yu-furen going to say to that?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “This is sounding less and less believable by the minute.”

Shrugging, Wei Wuxian slings his bag over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. Jin Zixuan says he’s going to try to talk to you later.”

“How lovely,” Jiang Cheng says drily. “Bonding time with the peacock. I can’t think of a better way to spend my time.”

“I can!” Wei Wuxian sings. “How about you accompany your dearest brother and your adorable nephew to see the sights of Lanling?”

“You’re my only brother, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng scoffs. “And that’s what I was going to do anyway. Why are you asking me again?”

Wei Wuxian cannot believe that he is hiding in an alcove at his own nephew’s thirteenth birthday party. He sighs. Where did it all go wrong?

The evening had been off to a great start. Wei Wuxian managed to accost Jin Ling before the party officially began to give him his present – an illustrated hardcover book detailing the history of space exploration, from ancient mathematicians and astronomers to modern-day space agencies and astronauts.

Jin Ling’s eyes widened. “Woah,” he breathed. He flipped through the glossy pages, stopping every once in a while to admire photographs of spacesuits and rovers and orbiters. “Dajiu, this is so cool. Thanks!”

Wei Wuxian could feel his position as Jin Ling’s favorite uncle cementing. Highly pleased with himself, he went to find Jiang Cheng so he could brag about his superior gift-giving abilities. Instead of Jiang Cheng’s signature snark, however, all he got was a smile.

It was very unnerving. In hindsight, that was probably the first warning sign.

Bemused, Wei Wuxian went off to properly greet Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu (he was very grateful that Wen Yuan was not with him for this). He was in the middle of dodging questions from nosy relatives about his marital status when he noticed one of the household staff wheeling in two velvet-covered crates on a trolley.

That was probably the second warning sign. Like a fool, he did not heed it.

That was why Wei Wuxian was caught completely unawares when Jiang Cheng and one of Jin Ling’s many uncles revealed their presents for Jin Ling – a husky, and all the dog toys and accessories it could ever need.

With an undignified yelp, Wei Wuxian retreated to the safety of the alcove, far out of reach of the dog (never mind the fact that it was a puppy, collared and leashed). It took longer than he’d like to admit for his heart rate to return to normal.

Now that Wei Wuxian has calmed down, though, he comes to the conclusion that hiding in an alcove is not a terrible idea. Not only is he safe from rouge dogs, he is also finally able to have some free time to himself.

He fishes out his phone from his pocket, sends a photo of himself flipping the bird to Jiang Cheng, then opens up his chat with Hanguang-jun.

Wei Wuxian: You’d never guess what just happened to me (╥﹏╥)

He doesn’t need to wait long for a response.

Hanguang-jun✧: I cannot possibly make a correct guess. What happened?

Wei Wuxian: I’m at my nephew’s birthday party and my brother gave him a dog in front of me

Wei Wuxian: A dog!!!

Hanguang-jun✧: That is a terrible thing for your brother to do. Are you alright now?

Wei Wuxian: Yep I found somewhere to hide

Wei Wuxian: From both dogs and my relatives! So I can text you instead o(≧▽≦)o

Wei Wuxian: Don’t blame my brother too much

Wei Wuxian: Scaring me was not his primary purpose

Wei Wuxian: No this was his master plan to usurp me as from my position as my nephew’s favorite uncle

Wei Wuxian: I am sad to say that the plan worked

Hanguang-jun✧: That is most tragic. How will you win back your nephew’s affections now?

Wei Wuxian: (°ロ°) !

Wei Wuxian: Hanguang-jun!! Did you just make fun of me??

Hanguang-jun✧: Yes.

Wei Wuxian: I never thought I would live to see the day

Wei Wuxian: You don’t seem like the type of person to joke

Hanguang-jun✧: It would appear that your assumptions are wrong.

Wei Wuxian: They are

Wei Wuxian: And I am pleasantly surprised

Wei Wuxian: By the way am I disturbing you

Wei Wuxian: What are you doing now

Hanguang-jun✧: I am quite free at the moment. I was reading a fiction book my brother recommended to me.

Wei Wuxian: Ohhh that’s nice

Wei Wuxian: What’s it about? Do you like it?

Wei Wuxian: I’ve been meaning to read more

Hanguang-jun✧: It is enjoyable, but some parts are… quite graphic in nature.

Wei Wuxian: Oh I’m fine with violence in books

Wei Wuxian: Is it fantasy? Crime/thriller?

Wei Wuxian: I need to know what the esteemed Hanguang-jun reads

Hanguang-jun✧: I was not referring to graphic violence.

It takes a few moments for Wei Wuxian to fully process the implications of that sentence.

Wei Wuxian: Oh

Wei Wuxian: You mean graphic sex

Hanguang-jun’s silence is confirmation enough.

Wei Wuxian: It’s ok! There’s no need to be embarrassed

Wei Wuxian: Plenty of people read sex scenes in books

Wei Wuxian: Some of them are really tastefully written

Wei Wuxian: Personally I like it best when they’re both romantic and erotic

Wei Wuxian: But I’ve also read plenty where authors try to be too metaphorical and they end up failing spectacularly

Wei Wuxian: Often to great comedic effect there’s awards for it and everything

Wei Wuxian: But I digress

Wei Wuxian: I can give you recommendations! If you want

Hanguang-jun✧: That would be much appreciated.

Wei Wuxian: Ok! I can send you a list of my favorites when I have time

Wei Wuxian: It’ll probably have to wait till later tonight

Hanguang-jun✧: Thank you for your help.

Hanguang-jun✧: I do not have many people that I am comfortable discussing these matters with.

Wei Wuxian: It’s no problem

Wei Wuxian: Aren’t we friends now? It’s only natural that we help each other out

Wei Wuxian: Plus you gave me really good advice last time

Hanguang-jun✧: Mm. We are friends.

Wei Wuxian: (≧◡≦) ♡

Wei Wuxian spends the rest of the party texting Hanguang-jun about everything and nothing in particular. It is not until he is in his room, on the verge of sleep, that a thought swims lazily to the surface: how did Hanguang-jun know about his fear of dogs, when he is almost certain he has never publicized it on the internet?

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji and Wei Ying text each other every day following his nephew’s birthday party. At first they begin by giving updates on the progress of the music box before moving onto other topics, but lately they talk even when there are no such updates to give.

It is gratifying to know that Wei Ying likes talking to him as much as he enjoys the same. Wei Ying’s constant presence fills the gaps in Lan Wangji’s life until it is like the years-long hiatus in their friendship never happened at all. And it is terrifyingly easy: to slip into that delusion, to pretend that he is speaking to Wei Ying as himself and not as Hanguang-jun.

Lulled into complacency by the familiarity of their relationship, he has slipped up several times – when he called Wei Ying by his birth name, and when he indirectly revealed his knowledge of Wei Ying’s phobia of dogs. There are likely other slip-ups that even he is not aware of. It is a small wonder that Wei Ying still does not suspect anything, but Lan Wangji knows he is living on borrowed time.

This small piece of bliss that he has stolen for himself must end eventually.

Lan Wangji has just ended his conference call when his phone pings. As it often is these days, it is a text from Wei Ying.

Wei Ying: I finished transferring the song to the paper strip!! I had to punch so many holes my hand cramped halfway through

Wei Ying: Before you ask it’s fine now!

Wei Ying: My hand is as good as new

Hanguang-jun: That is reassuring, but you should rest in between. I do not wish to see you in pain.

Wei Ying: Okay! I’ll try to take better care of myself

Wei Ying: Otherwise you’re definitely going to get wrinkles because of all the worrying you do

Wei Ying: And before you say something embarrassing like how you don’t care if you get wrinkles because of me

Wei Ying: I care enough for the both of us

Wei Ying: So let me change the topic before you can say that

Wei Ying: [video attachment]

It is a video of someone, likely Wei Ying’s son, winding the aforementioned paper strip through the music box using the hand crank. Their song sounds different this way, more tranquil and ethereal, but it is the same in essence.

Hanguang-jun: It sounds beautiful.

Wei Ying: It’s the song you wrote! It can’t be anything but beautiful (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Wei Ying: Is it ok if I upload a short snippet of this to my social media? Around 15 seconds or so

Hanguang-jun: It is fine with me. I have already given you permission to share it last time.

Wei Ying: Yes but I just wanted to share it with my family then

Wei Ying: If I post it to my social media everyone is going to hear it

Hanguang-jun: I do not mind. You may do with it as you wish.

Wei Ying: Hanguang-jun

Wei Ying: Aren’t you being too generous when you say stuff like that

Wei Ying: Aren’t you worried that I’m going to take advantage of you

Wei Ying: I could upload the whole thing to my channel and take credit for writing it

Hanguang-jun: I am not worried. I know the song is safe with you. You are not the type of person who would do such a thing.

Wei Ying: I

Wei Ying: Askjdkgjklfdl;kdjs

Wei Ying: I cannot

Hanguang-jun: Is your keyboard malfunctioning?

Wei Ying: NO

Wei Ying: But my heart is

Wei Ying: The shamelessness

Wei Ying: I bet you typed that with a straight face

Wei Ying: And meant every word

Wei Ying: (Also I’m ignoring the fact that you’re pretending not to know what a keysmash is just to make fun of me because I have enough to process already)

Hanguang-jun: I can call an ambulance for you, if your heart is malfunctioning.

Wei Ying: Ok I need to go scream before I explode

A small chuckle escapes Lan Wangji, and he feels unbearably fond.

The conversation that Lan Wangji has been dreading comes up inevitably that evening. Wei Ying was telling him about the overwhelmingly positive response to the short clip of their music box on social media before he shifted topics.

Wei Ying: By the way

Wei Ying: I’ve been meaning to ask you

Wei Ying: Is the song you sent me a love song?

Lan Wangji types out his response, carefully picking out the keys one by one. His heart speeds up.

Hanguang-jun: Yes. I wrote it for someone very precious to me. I am not good at expressing myself with words.

Wei Ying’s reply comes surprisingly quickly.

Wei Ying: That’s so romantic!! Have you already confessed to them?

Hanguang-jun: No. They appear to be unaware of my feelings.

Wei Ying: Ok that’s even more romantic

Wei Ying: Are you going to confess to them using the music box??

Wei Ying: You’re going to have the cutest story to tell your kids and grandkids when they ask how you two got together

Wei Ying: If you want kids and/or grandkids that is

Wei Ying: I’m kind of jealous

Wei Ying: I want someone to dedicate a love song to me too

Lan Wangji stares at his phone for the longest time. Is Wei Ying referring to Luo Qingyang? Or someone new?

Hanguang-jun: Mm.

Wei Ying: Actually I have an idea

Wei Ying: I know we already decided on the design of the music box

Wei Ying: But what if we engrave both of your names on the lid?

Wei Ying: Or on the inside of the lid

Wei Ying: If you want it to be a surprise

Wei Ying: What do you think??

His fingers are moving before he even can fully register the question.

Hanguang-jun: No

Hanguang-jun: That will not be necessary.

Wei Ying: Oh ok

Wei Ying: I guess it’s kind of a corny idea

Lan Wangji feels guilty for shooting down Wei Ying’s idea so abruptly, but it could not be helped. He is selfish, but he is not prepared to ruin this relationship between Hanguang-jun and Wei Ying by revealing his identity and his feelings for Wei Ying in one fell swoop.

He browses his phone for a video of his pet rabbits grooming each other, which he sends to Wei Ying. Judging by the amount of emoticons that follow, it is very effective in cheering him up.

But the underlying current of unease in the back of Lan Wangji’s mind is not so easily appeased. It warns him not to get used to this. It tells him that he is talking to Wei Ying as Hanguang-jun, not Lan Zhan. It reminds him that the clock is ticking on their relationship.

Once the music box is complete, everything will end.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian: A-jie

Wei Wuxian: I think I’m going crazy

Wei Wuxian: Call me later when you’re free?

Jiejie❤: Of course! Around 6pm?

Wei Wuxian replies in the affirmative, sets down his phone, and tries to return to work. It is difficult to keep his mind on databases and CAD models when his brain is a hot mess, but he manages somehow. When his phone rings with a call from Jiang Yanli, he picks up with an overwhelming rush of relief.

“A-jie!” he cries. “I think I’m imagining things that aren’t actually there and I need you to be my voice of reason before I go crazy.”

Jiang Yanli’s voice is calming. “A-Xian, take a deep breath first. Then you can tell me what happened.”

Wei Wuxian inhales, exhales. He feels less jumpy. In a voice more steady than he feels, he says, “Okay. I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out. I think Lan Zhan and Hanguang-jun are the same person.”

There is silence on the other end of the line, presumably as Jiang Yanli tries to process the implausibility of his words. “Well,” she says slowly, “I guess that’s as reasonable a theory as any other.”

Wei Wuxian’s brain stutters to a stop. “Wait, what do you mean it’s reasonable?”

“You kept mistaking Hanguang-jun for Lan Wangji,” Jiang Yanli says, like she is explaining why the sky is blue to a toddler.

“I – What – How did you know?”

“Jiang Cheng told me you did it two more times in front of him, and A-Yuan said you did it again earlier today.”

Wei Wuxian groans loudly. He suddenly feels very grateful for the fact that he is working from home today, and that Wen Yuan is staying over at Ouyang Zizhen’s place tonight.

“We’re all just concerned about you. It’s one thing for you to mix up people’s names, but to have done so multiple times when Lan Wangji is one of those people… That’s like me calling some random stranger ‘Zixuan’ again and again. It’s very worrying.”

“Hanguang-jun isn’t just some random stranger,” Wei Wuxian says instinctively, even though he knows that is not the point Jiang Yanli is trying to make.

She ignores him. “Besides, you mention Hanguang-jun about as frequently as you mentioned Lan Wangji back in university. That’s why it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re the same person.”

“But I’m not actually sure that Hanguang-jun is Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, distressed. He begins pacing around his workshop. “It’s just… this feeling I have. He called me by my birth name once, but that used to be my channel name, and anyone who’s the slightest bit competent at internet sleuthing can find it with a little bit of effort. He types like Lan Zhan does and he’s the right age too, but plenty of people type the same way and the age thing could just be a coincidence. Sometimes in the middle of texting him I begin to think of him as Lan Zhan because he says things he would say, but that’s just a feeling. It’s not proof!”

Wei Wuxian drops his face into his hands. “I don’t have any actual evidence to support my theory of Hanguang-jun being Lan Zhan, but for some reason I can’t just move on and forget about this. A-jie, I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, A-Xian,” she murmurs. “I know we live five hours apart, but I’m really tempted to come over to give you a hug right now.”

“It’s okay, A-jie,” Wei Wuxian says, doing his best to sound more upbeat. He sinks back into his chair. “I’m fine.”

Jiang Yanli does not call him out on his very obvious lie, which he is thankful for. “A-Xian,” she says after a while. “You should trust your feelings. Or at the very least, listen to them.”

Words rush out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth like water escaping from a burst dam – suddenly, forcefully, like they have wanted to leave for a long time now. “But what if I’m just projecting on Hanguang-jun? What if I only feel this way because I want him to be Lan Zhan?”

She hums. “And why do you want Hanguang-jun to be Lan Wangji?”

“I miss him,” Wei Wuxian says, and his voice breaks but he is beyond caring. “I haven’t seen Lan Zhan for so long and I miss him so much, A-jie. I miss spending time with him. I miss introducing him to new foods. I miss all his facial expressions. I miss all those stupid arguments we used to have, like if pancakes should be a breakfast food, or which stall had the best xiaolongbao. I miss him, and it hurts that he’s not here.”

Jiang Yanli says gently, “I know, A-Xian. I know he means a lot to you.”

“He does. Lan Zhan is very important to me.”

She stays quiet as he blows his nose. “A-Xian,” she says when he finishes, “what do you want to do?”

An open question, with a dizzying number of possible answers. “I… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. You can take your time.”

So Wei Wuxian takes his time. He can hear Jin Zixuan’s lowered voice in the background, Jiang Yanli replying in a hushed tone, the clatter of cutlery and chopsticks. They clear his head, soothe his heart. He thinks about what he wants to do.

“A-jie,” he finally says. It comes out hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “A-jie?”

“I’m here. Do you know what you want to do now?”

Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair until he is staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I want to meet Hanguang-jun in person. Not just because I want to find out if he’s Lan Zhan, but also because he’s a really good person.”

Jiang Yanli gives a hum of approval. “Do you have a plan?”

“The music box.” It is currently sitting atop his workbench, almost complete. All that is missing are the finishing touches. “I’ll get it done soon, probably around Christmas. I’ll suggest meeting up in person so I can deliver it to him safely.”

“It sounds like a good plan.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to meet in person? What happens then?”

“Then we come up with a new plan,” Jiang Yanli says firmly, “and if that doesn’t work either, we’ll keep thinking of more plans until something works.”

Wei Wuxian smiles, feeling close to tears again. “Thanks, A-jie.”

He can hear her smile in her voice. “Silly Xianxian. Why are you thanking me?”

“Because Jiejie is the best!”

Jiang Yanli laughs, and the mood lightens until Wei Wuxian no longer feels like crying.

Chapter Text

It occurs to Wei Wuxian while he is brushing his teeth that if Hanguang-jun really is Lan Zhan, that would mean Lan Zhan is in love with someone – someone he has spent years pining after, someone he spent years writing a beautiful song for, someone who is very precious to him.

The thought makes him feel strange.

He wants to know more about this person who has supposedly captured Lan Zhan’s heart, all the more so because he cannot recall Lan Zhan dating anyone during their four years together at university. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know what Lan Zhan’s type is; the topic simply never came up, though Wei Wuxian is certain he told Lan Zhan about his bisexuality at some point.

He may not know what Lan Zhan’s type is, but he doesn’t need that knowledge in order to imagine who he might fall in love with. They must be smart and kind and beautiful. Diligent too, and attentive. They must be a good person, to be worthy of Lan Zhan’s affections. Most importantly of all, they must love Lan Zhan equally in return, if not more (ironically, this is probably the easiest criteria to meet; Lan Zhan is so perfect it would be more impossible for them to not love him back). These are all very high standards, but Lan Zhan doesn’t deserve anyone less.

Actually, isn’t it kind of incredible how Lan Zhan managed to find such a person? Wei Wuxian spits toothpaste in the sink and rinses out his mouth. Hanguang-jun said he started working on the song years ago, so if he is Lan Zhan…

Wei Wuxian runs through the list of people he knows from university as he continues his morning routine. None of them meet the criteria he set, so Lan Zhan must have met this person sometime after they graduated. The probability of Lan Zhan meeting his… beloved prior to university is very low, practically zero, because surely Lan Zhan would have told him he was in love if that were the case.

The longer he spends thinking about the possibility of Lan Zhan being in love, the more antsy he becomes. Filled with an inexplicable need to know more, Wei Wuxian fires off a text before he can think too much about why he is doing this.

Wei Wuxian: Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?

Hanguang-jun, as reliable as ever, does not leave him hanging for long.

Hanguang-jun✧: I do not mind. What is it?

Wei Ying: It’s about the person you’re going to give the music box to

Wei Ying: Can you tell me about them?

Truth be told, Wei Wuxian does not expect a proper answer. As close as they have gotten, he does not expect Hanguang-jun to tell someone who is essentially a virtual stranger about such matters of the heart. Hanguang-jun would see it as a breach of privacy to divulge something so intimate to someone he does not completely trust.

Enough time passes without Hanguang-jun’s answer that Wei Wuxian decides to send a message laughing off his question (he doesn’t want Hanguang-jun to feel bad for not answering, after all), but his phone buzzes before he can type anything. Hanguang-jun has replied.

Hanguang-jun✧: He is intelligent and witty. He can charm tens of thousands of people with nothing but his words.

Hanguang-jun✧: He cares a great deal about his family and friends.

Hanguang-jun✧: His passion for life and everything he does is deeply inspiring.

Hanguang-jun✧: He has a strong sense of justice, and does not hesitate to stand up for those who are wronged.

Hanguang-jun✧: He is one of the best people I know.

Oh. There is a lump in Wei Wuxian’s throat he can’t seem to get rid of. This person… he sounds like the perfect match for both Hanguang-jun and Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian: You must love him very much

Hanguang-jun✧: I do. He is my closest confidante, and the person who knows me best.

Hanguang-jun✧: There is nothing I would not do for his happiness.

The words on Wei Wuxian’s screen swim. His eyes are hot to the touch.

Wei Wuxian: Your beloved is very lucky to have you for a partner

Wei Wuxian: I’m sure the two of you will be exceedingly happy together

Hanguang-jun✧: It would be highly presumptuous of me to call him my beloved or my partner. I have reason to believe he is already in love with someone else.

Wei Wuxian: What

Wei Wuxian: That’s stupid!

Wei Wuxian: No one with the slightest bit of sense would choose someone else over you

Hanguang-jun✧: Thank you for your reassurance.

Hanguang-jun✧: But it does not matter that he does not feel the same way. I am prepared. As long as he is happy and well, I will be satisfied.

Hanguang-jun✧: You do not need to worry about me being hurt.

Wei Wuxian: Hanguang-jun

Wei Wuxian: You really are too good of a person

Wei Wuxian: I hope he returns your feelings

Wei Wuxian: Because you deserve to be happy too

Hanguang-jun✧: Thank you, Wei Ying. I, too, wish for your happiness.

The part of Wei Wuxian’s mind which does not listen to reason is screaming at him. It tells him things he does not want to hear, but hears anyway: that Hanguang-jun is Lan Zhan, that Lan Zhan is in love with his closest confidante, that Lan Zhan might not be loved in return.

His chest hurts, he can’t breathe – is this what it feels like, to have your heart break? He wants to cry, scream, curl up in a ball and never leave his bed. He wants to call Jiang Yanli, but he already took up so much of her time yesterday. He would be interrupting the time she has with her own family if he calls now.

So he does the next best thing – he closes his eyes, and imagines A-jie’s voice in his ear.

A-Xian, listen to your heart. What is it telling you?

He listens, and he tries his best to put a name to each of his emotions.

Sadness. Anger. Hurt.

Why are you sad?

Because Lan Zhan is the best person he knows. Lan Zhan is smart and beautiful and hardworking, with a heart of gold beneath his stern exterior. If he loves someone, he would not do so half-heartedly; he would dedicate his entire being to the one he loves. Lan Zhan would not be able to love any other way, and whoever he loves would be the luckiest person in the world.

Because Lan Zhan loves so whole-heartedly, he deserves someone who is going to love him back just as much. Lan Zhan deserves happiness more than anyone he knows, and the thought of him not having that happiness is devastating.

Why are you angry?

Because no one should make Lan Zhan sad. He is furious at the man Lan Zhan has fallen in love with, who already has his heart set on someone else – how could he hurt Lan Zhan, even if he never intended to do so? How could he not see the goodness in Lan Zhan, how could he not treasure Lan Zhan like he is the most important thing he has? How dare he trapple on Lan Zhan’s feelings like they are inconsequential, like he is not enough?

Because Lan Zhan is more than enough, and Wei Wuxian hates whoever makes him feel less.

Why are you hurt?

Because Lan Zhan is one of the most important people in his life. Seeing Lan Zhan hurt hurts him too.

Because even though he wants to make Lan Zhan feel better, there is nothing he can do. If only… he were the one Lan Zhan loved.

If he were the one Lan Zhan loved, he wouldn’t hurt him so. He would return Lan Zhan’s feelings with everything he has, and the two of them would be happy together.

He would love Lan Zhan.

It dawns on Wei Wuxian then, and he sees what he has been blind to all along.

He loves Lan Zhan.

And it is far too late for him to do anything about it.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying: I want to meet you

Wei Ying: I’ve finished making the music box

Wei Ying: Can I give it to you in person?

Lan Wangji knows this day would come, but that does not mean he is ready for it now that it has arrived. He is not ready, but he has to be.

After Wei Ying brought up the topic he did yesterday, he is sure that Wei Ying knows, or at least strongly suspects, the truth – about Lan Wangji’s identity as Hanguang-jun, and about his feelings for him. This meeting that Wei Ying is suggesting must be his way of verifying the truth.

He cannot keep hiding, nor does he want to any longer. Lan Wangji is tired of the guilt, tired of pretending. His love for Wei Ying makes up so much of who he is. Even if it means they never speak to each other again (his heart clenches at the thought), Lan Wangji wants Wei Ying to know all of him.

Hanguang-jun: Yes.

Hanguang-jun: I wish to see you as well.

Wei Ying: Okay! That’s good

Wei Ying: Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Wei Ying: I’ll be near Gusu then for a business trip

A wave of deja vu sweeps over Lan Wangji. It had been Christmas Eve too, that day Wei Ying gave him the wind chime he made as a parting gift.

Hanguang-jun: I am free.

Wei Ying sets a date and time promptly, with none of his usual exclamation marks or emoticons. Six in the evening, at the entrance of a small park across town from their old university campus.

It will be Christmas Eve in three days.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji’s boots crunch into freshly fallen snow. There are still twenty minutes until the appointed time, but he is too on edge to stay in his apartment. He breathes in the cold wintery air and lets it wash away his nerves. He feels a little more like his usual self.

That only lasts until he turns the corner and reaches the last stretch of pavement leading to the park.

Wei Ying is standing next to a lamppost near the entrance, lit by a warm golden glow. He is wearing a dark gray wool coat, chin burrowed in his upturned collar. Puffs of condensation leave his mouth as he exhales warm air onto his hands and rubs them together. Even from this far away, Lan Wangji can see how his cheeks are flushed from the cold.

Lan Wangji quickens his pace. He makes it halfway down the street before Wei Ying turns and spots him.

His face brightens at once. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls as Lan Wangji comes to a stop in front of him. His smile stretches from ear to ear, and he looks as radiant as the sun. “You came.”

“Wei Ying.” This close to him, Lan Wangji can see tiny snowflakes dusting his eyelashes. He instinctively reaches out to brush them away, but lets his hand drop midway. It is not his place. Instead, he unwinds the scarf around his neck and offers it to Wei Ying.

“Oh.” Wei Ying does not take the scarf. “It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I’m not cold. Keep it!”

“You are shivering,” Lan Wangji points out. Not bothering to wait for a comeback, he wraps his scarf around Wei Ying. His hands skim the curve of his jaw, the line of his neck. Lan Wangji swallows, and tucks the ends of the scarf neatly into Wei Ying’s coat. “You already know who I am.”

“Of course I know who you are, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughs. “Or should I call you Hanguang-jun?” He tugs at the scarf until it hides the bottom half of his face from view. He inhales deeply, then sighs. “I’d admit, it took me longer than I should to figure it out. But you couldn’t hide it from me forever! You’re not my best friend for nothing, you know.”

“Best friend,” Lan Wangji echoes. Of course. That is all they are – best friends.

“We are still best friends, aren’t we, Lan Zhan?”

“We are,” Lan Wangji says. Better to be best friends than nothing at all. He thinks he sees Wei Ying’s smile seize before it smooths out again, but it happens too quickly for him to be sure.

Silence settles over them. Now that he is here with Wei Ying, his mind is wiped blank of all coherent thought. Lan Wangji’s carefully rehearsed speech crumbles into nothingness.

“Listen, Lan Zhan –”

“Should we return to my apartment?” Lan Wangji blurts out before he can think better of it.

Wei Ying blinks, startled. “Your apartment?”

Lan Wangji can feel the tips of his ears burn, hearing the implications behind his proposal. “It is far too cold outside,” he explains quickly. “My apartment is close by. You should come up. If you are unopposed.”

“Right. Okay. Your apartment it is, then.”

The walk back to his apartment feels unfamiliar, even though Lan Wangji takes the same route almost every morning on his run. Neither of them speak, but occasionally the back of Wei Ying’s hand would brush up against his like it is the most natural thing in the world. Lan Wangji finds his hand twitching with the need to reach out and entwine their fingers together. He resists.

They reach his apartment building too soon. Lan Wangji holds the door open for Wei Ying and nods briskly at the security guard in the lobby, and then they are both in the elevator. Lan Wangji takes this chance to get a proper look at him under the fluorescence of the elevator lights. Wei Ying’s face is sharper than it was, leaner, but otherwise he looks much the same as he did eight years ago.

“Checking me out, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying catches his eye in the mirror of the elevator doors, wiggling his eyebrows.

The doors slide open, and Lan Wangji exits the elevator. “I was. You look well.”

A strangled cry escapes Wei Ying, and the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth curls. It is good to hear Wei Ying’s reactions in person rather than through text.

“Lan Zhan,” he wails, dragging out the last syllable. “When did you become such a smooth-talker? You’ll have no problem getting anyone to fall for you like this!”

It is like all the mirth in the air is sucked out as soon as the sentence leaves Wei Ying.

The door to Lan Wangji’s apartment opens with an abrupt twist of the key. He pushes the door ajar. “Please come in,” he says, more stiffly than he means to.

Wei Ying flinches at his tone, but tries his best to hide it. “Such a nice place, Lan Zhan,” he says, shucking off his boots at the entrance. “Your bunnies!” He peers inside the rabbit hutch, where they are both dozing, then gets distracted. “And such a nice piano!” Wei Ying runs over to it, hesitates, and looks over at Lan Wangji. “May I?”

Lan Wangji nods. He picks up Wei Ying’s bag and coat from where he has abandoned it on the floor (the scarf is still looped around his neck, but more loosely than it was previously), and hangs it up beside his own. Wei Ying has made himself at home on the piano bench, where he is rustling through his collection of sheet music. “Would you like anything to drink?” Lan Wangji asks. Wei Ying nods, already thoroughly distracted.

He heads to the kitchen. He is reaching for his usual tin of tea leaves when his eyes catch on something far better – a corporate gift basket, still untouched. Lan Wangji fishes out and chops up most of a chili chocolate bar, and has just put on a small saucepan of milk to warm when an achingly familiar piece of music begins to play from the living room.

Wangxian.

Lan Wangji leans heavily against the counter. How surreal this is – having Wei Ying in his house like it is where he belongs, playing their song on his piano like there is nothing else he would rather be doing. He closes his eyes, and sears this moment into his memory.

He only leaves the kitchen after he has collected himself, mug of hot chocolate in hand. He waits for the last strain of their song to fade away before tapping Wei Ying on the shoulder.

Wei Ying turns around, face clouded with something unspoken, but it winks out of existence as soon as he catches sight of the mug. “Hot chocolate!” He cheers, drains half of it in one go, and lets out a loud sigh of satisfaction. “The perfect amount of spice,” he says, smiling. “Thanks.”

“There is no need for thanks.” Lan Wangji inclines his head towards his sofa.

Wei Ying gets the signal; he bounces over and sprawls on top of it like a starfish. “Wow, Lan Zhan, your sofa is so hard it might as well be made of…” His words trail off. “Lan Zhan. Is that…?”

Lan Wangji follows Wei Ying’s line of sight to the opposite wall, where the wind chime that Wei Ying made hangs. “Yes,” he says. “The very same.”

Wei Ying gets up, and walks towards the wind chime like he is in a trance. Tracing light fingertips over each piece of sea glass, he murmurs, “I was worried you might have thrown this old thing out.”

“Never,” Lan Wangji says, and even he is surprised by the ferocity with which he says it. He softens his voice. “It is the only gift you gave me. I would never throw it out.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying breathes. “Lan Zhan. I – Thank you. For keeping it.”

Frowning, Lan Wangji says, “I have told you there is no need for thanks. I wanted to keep it.”

Wei Ying chuckles at him. “Lan Zhan, don’t look at me like that. I’ll listen, okay? No more thanks.”

Lan Wangji hums in concession. Wei Ying settles back on the sofa, now sitting properly as he sips what remains of his hot chocolate, and Lan Wangji goes back to the kitchen for his own mug of tea. When he returns, Wei Ying is staring at the dregs of his hot chocolate like it holds all the answers to his future. He says somberly, “Lan Zhan. I’m sorry we didn’t keep in touch after university.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji sits down beside him, sets his tea down on the coffee table. “It is not your fault. I – I was busy with work. You were busy too, with your son. Raising a child is no easy task.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “No. I could’ve tried harder. I should’ve tried harder. You were busy, but you finally accepted that last time, remember? I was the one who cancelled on you then.” Wei Ying’s fingers turn white with how hard he is gripping the mug. “That was the day I got the call about A-Yuan. I kept meaning to reschedule, but… It’s like I got pulled out to sea by a riptide. There was stuff at work, and A-Yuan to take care of, and everyone in my family to deal with. Jiang Cheng didn’t speak to me for months, and Yu-furen kept threatening to disown me for good. But that’s nothing I haven’t heard before anyway.”

Wei Ying curls in on himself. “By the time I got my bearings, I felt like I was light years away from you. So much time had passed, and I couldn’t bring myself to reach out.” He lets out a rough laugh. “I really am such an idiot. You said we’re best friends, Lan Zhan, but are we really? Even after all this time? What kind of best friend am I, to have not known you’d fallen in love?”

Lan Wangji’s heart twists at the pain in his voice, and he reaches out for his hand. “Wei Ying, I –”

Wei Ying shrinks away from his touch like it burns. “It’s fine. I should give you what I came here for. Where did you put my bag?”

“Wei Ying, listen to me –”

Wei Ying gets up from the sofa, sets down his mug. “Please, Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “Where’s my bag?”

Lan Wangji relents. “Beside the door.” He watches as Wei Ying rummages through his bag, retrieves a bubble-wrapped package, and hands it to him, all while avoiding his gaze.

“The music box. I worked really hard on it, so there’s no way your confession is going to go poorly, okay? You’re going to get a happy ending if it’s the last thing I do.” Wei Ying looks up at him then. There is a quiver in his smile that is barely perceptible. “It’s all going to work out, Lan Zhan. Remember to invite me to the wedding, okay?”

Confusion swirls in Lan Wangji’s mind. Hasn’t Wei Ying figured out who it is that he has feelings for? Before he can dwell on the matter, Wei Ying interrupts his train of thought. “I should go. Thank you for inviting me up, Lan Zhan.”

He turns away from him, eyes downcast, and Lan Wangji is panicking because it can’t end like this, not now, not when they finally get to see each other again. He darts in front of Wei Ying, catches the crook of his arm. “Please. Stay.”

“I – I really should go.” Wei Ying’s voice is thin, weak. He does not try to shake his arm free. “I have a flight to catch tomorrow.”

Lan Wangji recognizes this voice. With a feather-light touch, he tips Wei Ying’s head up until their eyes meet. Shimmering tracks wet his face.

The anxiety in his mind quiets. Lan Wangji reaches out again, inch by inch, and wipes away the tears. Wei Ying does not shrink away this time; instead he closes his eyes, and leans into his touch.

“Wei Ying. Don’t go.”

The moment before Wei Ying nods seemed to stretch on forever.

Lan Wangji strokes his thumb across Wei Ying’s cheek one more time before withdrawing his hand to unwrap Wei Ying’s package. The music box is beautiful – sleek and black, embellished with delicately-painted lotus flowers and cloud motifs. Lan Wangji draws the hole-punched paper strip through the mechanism of the music box, then turns the hand crank. Together, they listen to the tinkling melody that rings out into the silence of the apartment.

“Do you like it?” Wei Ying has opened his eyes.

Lan Wangji hums. “I do. But it is not my opinion that matters.”

Wei Ying laughs without meaning it. “You’re right. You’ll have to let me know what he thinks of it, after the confession.”

“I will.” Lan Wangji closes the music box and holds it out in front of him. “Wei Ying, do you like it?”

Wei Ying goes completely still. “I – Lan Zhan, why are you asking me?”

“It can only be you.” Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying’s hands in his, and folds them over the music box. “Wei Ying, you are my closest confidante. You are intelligent and witty, caring and passionate. You are the best person I know. You are the one I want to give the music box to. Wei Ying, I love you.”

“Me?” Bewilderment creeps across Wei Ying’s face. “You were talking about me?”

Lan Wangji squares his shoulders and continues speaking. “I do not expect you to feel the same way. I know you already have feelings for someone el –”

“Wait,” Wei Ying interrupts, expression unreadable. “Can you say that again?”

He does not need to ask which part Wei Ying wants him to repeat. “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. He feels like he is tethering on the edge of a precipice, staring into the depths of an abyss. He wonders what awaits him if he falls. “I love you. There is no one else for me.”

Wei Ying breaks into the most dazzling smile. “Lan Zhan. I love you too.”

Lan Wangji is falling. His brain short-circuits. “I – What?”

“I love you.” Wei Ying places the music box on top of the piano, steps in closer. “I want you. I want to take you out on dates. I want to invite you home, so you and A-Yuan can meet. I want us to play board games together so you can praise me if I win, or tease me if I’m being a sore loser.” Wei Ying tucks a lock of Lan Wangji’s hair behind his ear. “I want us to move in together someday. I want to come home, knowing I’ll get to see you. I want to share my life with you.” A trace of apprehension colors Wei Ying’s face. “Lan Zhan… Do you want that too?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji breathes. He has tipped over the precipice, and he is not falling. He is flying, soaring, so giddy with joy and adoration and amazement that he can barely string together a coherent sentence. “Wei Ying – I – Yes. I want.”

A peal of laughter like bells, and Lan Wangji can tell Wei Ying means it this time. “That’s good,” Wei Ying says, rocking back and forth on his toes, “very good, because there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.”

Wei Ying tilts his head, curls his fingers into the hair at the nape of Lan Wangji’s neck. Eyes flutter shut, lips part, then they are kissing. They kiss until they cannot, until their breaths grow ragged and their lips turn red.

Lan Wangji tastes cocoa. His tongue tingles with spice.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, head nestled into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck as he twirls a strand of his hair around his finger. “I know we skipped the whole ‘let’s go on a date’ thing, but can I call you my boyfriend anyway? I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

“Boyfriend,” Lan Wangji repeats. His mind is sluggish (probably from being kissed senseless), but he suddenly remembers what had been worrying him prior to this evening. His grip on Wei Ying’s waist tenses instinctively.

“What is it?” Wei Ying lifts his head, frowning. He pokes at the furrow in Lan Wangji’s own brow. “What are you thinking about now?”

“I had thought you were in love with Luo Qingyang,” he confesses. In retrospect, it is perhaps a foolish conclusion to have jumped to.

Wei Ying guffaws loudly. “What – Mianmian? Why?”

Lan Wangji finds himself torn between exasperation and fondness; the latter wins out. “The two of you dated in university, and she is A-Yuan’s mother. It is not an outrageous assumption to make.”

He does not know how it is possible, but Wei Ying’s laughter escalates in volume until he is gasping for breath. “Mianmian is –! Lan Zhan – ah, I’m so sorry – but what on earth made you think that?”

Lan Wangji feels like his world is being completely turned on its head with all these new revelations. “I overheard rumors that you and Luo Qingyang were dating. You also mentioned you were co-parenting in one of our text conversations. I assumed you were referring to her. I was wrong?”

“Yes, completely wrong!” Wei Ying exclaims. “Mianmian and I are good friends, but we’re not interested in each other that way. As for the whole co-parenting thing… I guess I never told you about A-Yuan’s parentage, huh. He’s actually one of Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s relatives – you remember them, don’t you? A-Yuan’s parents died, and the two of them got custody of him. A whole bunch of stuff happened after that, but basically I take care of A-Yuan most of the year. Wen Qing and Wen Ning take care of him the rest of the time, usually during the summer holidays, which is why I said I was co-parenting.” A faint look of horror crosses his face. “Lan Zhan, was that why you kept saying no to dinner after graduation?”

Lan Wangji feels a twinge of regret for all the time they have lost, but it does not linger. “Mm, but it is alright. Wei Ying is my boyfriend now.”

“Boyfriend,” Wei Ying says, his voice full of wonder. He brings Lan Wangji’s hand to his mouth, and kisses the soft skin at the inside of his wrist, the raised bumps of his knuckles, the hardened calluses of his fingertips. “Lan Zhan is my boyfriend now too.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He dips his head to catch Wei Ying’s lips in a kiss, and feels the curve of his impossibly bright smile against his skin.